Chanukah in the Locked Ward

Lighting the menorah after my nervous breakdown.

“Merry Christmas, Shani!”' Paul flashed a wide smile at me and bobbed his head up and down, making his dirty blonde dreadlocks bounce enthusiastically.

"I don't celebrate that holiday,” I said tightly, nervously fingering the top button of my buttoned-up oxford shirt .

There were two things wrong with this little scenario, far as I was concerned. One, he mentioned that holiday that was part of a foreign religion. Two, he was a guy, I was a girl and we shouldn't have been talking. About anything. Period.

Paul looked puzzled. He wrinkled his nose and peered at me quizzically,

"Why not?”

I had enough of the conversation and just walked away. You could get away with doing things like that in psychiatric units.

I had enough of the conversation and just walked away. You could get away with doing things like that in psychiatric units.

Just as soon as I'd walked off, I sneaked a quick peek backwards, taking in Paul's retreating figure, Grateful Dead T-shirt, faded, ripped jeans and all. He was a rather nice looking fellow. That is if you looked. I jerked my head forward, reminding myself for the thousandth time who I was. The part that I was sure of, that is. Most of who I was was quite the mystery to me.

But I did know that I was a good Chassidic girl from Boro Park and good Chassidic girls did not talk to boys nor talk about Christmas.

Glad to have gotten that conversation out of the way, I studiously continued walking down the corridors, and around the main section of the unit, towards nowhere. Having completed a circle, I began again. For the dozenth time. I was homesick and sad. I missed my bed and my privacy. I missed parents and my 11 brothers and sisters. And I missed Chanukah.

It's not that the unit staff hadn't tried. Some effort had been put in. There were cheap paper banners with the words “Happy Hanukkah” and a thin blue Star of David at either end, strewn across the unit. On the other side of the large, plastic, green Christmas tree with the tinsel decorations in red, green and silvery purple, there was a small table with the remainders of the oily donuts we had been treated to after dinner that day. And in the nurses' station, there was a stout, white plastic menorah with wide branches and electric flame shaped bulbs on top of each one.

Maybe it was Hanukkah. But it certainly wasn't Chanukah...

I tried not to let the tears fall from my eyes as I thought about the beautiful silver menorah, with the carved birds, lions and flowers in the background and on each gracefully formed branch. I was intensely private and didn't like public displays of emotion. I tried not to think about the lilting melodies my father sang with such unbridled enthusiasm after the real flames were lit, or of the lively games of dreidel, with the real wooden sevivonim from our Saba in Israel, that our family played year after year. And when the tears did fall, I buried my face in my sleeve and stiffened my body as the sobs began. It wasn't anyone's business. But it hurt. I shuffled towards my room.

"Hey, Shani! Can you bring me some Christmas donuts? Interesting, we never had donuts on Christmas before. Hmmm. Guess they couldn't find cookies that were cheap and mass produced.”

"What makes you think those are donuts for your holiday?” I asked my rather manic roommate irritably.

Laura stopped practicing pirouettes and side leaps and the floor boards stopped their screeching protests. She was a former ballet dancer, who wasn't going to stop practicing just because she was now 356 pounds, and the last time she had performed was 30 years past.

Suddenly, she looked worried, and lowered her yelling by a few decibels. “Jeez, you might be worse off than I thought. Don't even know it's Christmas. Maybe you should see the doc.”

Once again, I had enough.

What was the point of remembering Chanukah anyways? It only made everything hurt more.

I crawled into my metal framed bed and curled up, covering myself with the thin green and white blanket with the words “Harris Hospital Inpatient Psychiatric Ward” printed over and over across the front. Maybe I should have let her think those donuts were for her blasted holiday. What was the point of remembering Chanukah anyways? It only made everything hurt more. Too miserable to cry, too drained to remember anymore, I closed my eyes and drifted off into a troubled sleep.

It was cold and then it was warm and then it was very warm. We had all come in from a heavy winter snowstorm, to the warm heated house, and gathered around to watch my father light the Menorah.

“Blessed are you, Our God, the King of the World, Who Performed Miracles for our Forefathers in those days, in these times.”

The blessing was a beautiful song, chanted to the traditional melody, in his rich melodic voice. He carefully lit each wick, and the small flames lent a wonderful glow to the golden olive oil that kept them alight.

In my dream, I felt uplifted and at peace. The green and sparkling lights dimmed and went out. The Christmas tree toppled and fell over. Fresh donuts were bought for everyone on the ward. Donuts that had the word “Chanukah” printed clearly on them, in Hebrew and English, in blue and white frosting. That'll teach Laura not to mix up my donuts with her donuts. Even if she had just converted to Judaism.

Brrring! Brring! Brring!

I awoke with a start, feeling like a heavy stone had just landed in my chest, and instantly realized that I had been dreaming.

It was Ron, the graying, potbellied, middle aged man who chattered constantly to himself and screamed whenever anyone came near. He had tried to commit suicide.

Suicide alerts had happened before. After all, I was in an inpatient psychiatric unit. But this time, I felt like someone had just poured ice water all over me, and the warm lingering feeling from my dream left in a hurry. As my heart sank further, I instinctively reflected on my harsh reality.

I was 17 years old. I had had a major nervous breakdown. The doctors called it a manic attack and said it was because I had a disorder named Bipolar, but that was all meaningless jargon to me. All I knew was that I wanted, more than anything, to be like any other Chassidic teenager and enjoy high school, my friends, my stylish, new winter clothes that had no place in the hospital, and excited, whispered conversations about shidduchim, marriage prospects, which would be relevant to us all as soon as we turned 18.

I did not want to be in a ward full of strange people with even stranger behaviors on the fifth night of Chanukah. But more than anything, I did not want to be strange myself. Being mentally ill was so embarrassing and distressing that I often found myself bargaining with God, asking for any physical illness, so long as he would take this terrifying, perplexing one away.

The mania had worn off several days before, and I was beginning to feel depressed. The doctors had an explanation for that too, but what I knew was for the first time in my life, everything seemed hopeless. It was like the lights went out. In a paradoxical way, that is very hard to describe, I wanted desperately to die, and even more desperately to live.

Or so I thought. But Ron's attempted suicide at this particular juncture, affected me deep within my soul. I was suddenly scared. Could I end up like Ron one day? Actually attempting suicide? Or worse - could I end up dead by my own hands?

Mental illness typically comes along with a diagnosis once a person goes for treatment. And that diagnosis most often comes along with a suggested treatment protocol usually including some type of medication and psychotherapy. But I have learned that there is a certain something beyond the reach of all this.

In the innermost recesses of the soul is will to fight for life. That special something stirred and awoke in me now, with unexpected vigor.

Something beyond the various labels for what was wrong with the mind, beyond endless prescription slips. Beyond odd behaviors and scary thought patterns. Beyond hours spent pacing long yellowed corridors. Something that can't be touched, or easily described or treated. A force, a power, a desire. Something deep and eternal that rests in the innermost recesses of the soul.

And that something is willpower. The will to fight for life and for health, the desire to live.

That special something stirred and awoke in me now, with unexpected vigor.

I sat up in bed, took out my trusty journal, turned a new page and began to write. I wrote for a long time. The words just poured out. And by the end of it, I had written 20 life affirming statements , such as “I will get well one day” and “God is watching over me” and ten ideas of how I could help advance my recovery. My therapist had suggested this as an exercise, but I thought I had forgotten what she said just as soon as she said it.

The first idea on the list was to go ahead, light the menorah and try to bring the spirit of Chanukah to where I was at this time. I would focus on the positive and try to better accept the way things were. I would effect change where I could. I would make this much happen.

I smoothed out my clothes and washed my face, looking carefully in the mirror to make sure nobody could tell how hard I'd cried earlier. Then I straightened my habitually hunched shoulders, and made my way to the nurses' station.

"Can I light the menorah?” I asked hesitantly, looking pointedly at the white plastic structure facing the main patient lounge.

"Sure, honey,” a large, friendly nurse named Debra, said warmly. “That's a great idea. A real pity to have all those pretty lights, and none of them turned on.”

So one by one, I carefully twisted five bulbs, for this fifth night of Chanukah, until each one was suffused with a glowing, red light.

And then I sang the blessing, quietly but clearly, to my father's traditional melody:

“Blessed are you, Our God, the King of the World, Who Performed Miracles for our Forefathers in those days, in these times.”

“Amen! Those flames sure do look nice. Merry Hannuka, Shani!”

Who said that? I turned. Paul had just entered the station and gave me his most charming smile.

This time I smiled back.

I had to agree. The menorah did look rather nice all lit up.

No, it wasn’t home. But, suddenly, it was Chanukah.

A spontaneous prayer filled my soul, adding fuel to that ember of determination that had been lit within, the inspiration behind the outer lights.

May it be His will that I too, along with all of the other suffering patients on this ward and everywhere, merit the miracle of mental and physical health and the gift of peace of mind.

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About the Author

Shani Silverstein lives with her family in Queens, New York. She is passionate about reaching out to all those who might benefit from her story. She is also the author of "Things Fall Apart", originally published in Sarah Shapiro's All of Our Lives: An Anthology of Contemporary Jewish Writing [Targum/Feldheim], later published on aish.com.

Visitor Comments: 34

(32)
Anonymous,
January 1, 2012 2:44 PM

A powerful and thought provoking article. Would it be possible to contact the author directly? As an educator who has struggled to help the Shani's of the world, I would value and appreciate her insights

(31)
Anonymous,
January 1, 2012 12:13 AM

amazing

Shani your words truly inspired me. I too am a chasidishe girl who suffered from anxiety. I went to seek help and worked on myself for many years. Today I am in school to become a social worker to help many others that may have gone through similar situations as myself. I want to give you a bracha that Hashem should help you in every way possible. With the unbelievable determination you displayed in your writing, you will eventually make it. Hatzlacha and don't give up.

(30)
Anonymous,
December 30, 2011 8:58 PM

Thank you for your bravery...

It is a privilege to be allowed a glimpse of your struggles. You are brave. Every time I have visited a patient at 4 Winds, I have seen other frum kids or adolescents there. It's a uniquely lonely and alienating experience to be from a frum home yet placed in a psychiatric facility. I wish you strength.

(29)
Aharon,
December 30, 2011 3:57 PM

Amen!

(28)
Anonymous,
December 28, 2011 9:17 PM

Wow! Thank you

This was very touching and I really appreciated it. It’s a subject that is not often enough addressed in the religious world. We are people and we are worthy despite our disabilities.
I was also in a locked ward for bipolar (29 years ago and never since). I also needed to reach for inspiration in order to face a life that was rocked by the unexpected shock of being psychotic – something that I thought never could or would happen. Fortunately I was able to get adequate help with medication to move forward and get married and have children, etc.
I wish you only good things and the ability to do whatever it takes to maintain your mental health and your self-esteem.

(27)
Yael,
December 28, 2011 6:36 PM

Wow.

Shani,
Thank you for sharing this with us. You write beautifully and honestly, it is really remarkable. I BH do not suffer from a mental illness, but I, as I am sure many, struggle with feelings of hopelessness, anxiety and despair an i feel that I can relate to what you wrote about, even if I can never fully understand. I am amazed at your courage and fortitude. May HKBH send you much bracha and hatzlacha and answer your tefilos letova.

(26)
e. deutsch,
December 28, 2011 12:11 AM

wow!

shanie, this is so inspiring! Thank you for sharing yuor story and I wish you only good and everything you want in life should come true! You deserve it! Keep on inspiring!

(25)
ruth housman,
December 27, 2011 10:17 PM

being Bipolar: Our Prophets

Today, many of our prophets, would be considered to have what was called once, Manic Depression and now Bipolar Illness. There are many books that do examine this. I am a psychotherapist and I will make the radical statement and say that life itself, for us all, is bipolar, and that there are those among us who have a tendency to slide to the poles, to the extremes, of what can be a slippery slope in life, for us all, to the extremes, of ecstasy on the "high" and manic side, to the "black hole" of depression on the other. We all strive in life to remain in the middle but to be somewhat "unbalanced' keeps the teeter totter of life going, and yes, we all go up and we all go down. It's part of the fabric of all of our lives.
Maybe it's time to take a closer look at the existential nature of bipolar illness. Maybe it's time because I see all of life, including our words, as deeply bipolar, Take for example, cleave, in its dual meaning. And sheer. Sheer magic but also Shear Magic, to cut away. Life is cutting edge meaning very au courant, and also cutting edge meaning we all bleed, we all do hit the rocks.
I am saying there is more to this story, and I am writing about this, and I can also say, the prophets did have dreams, they did perceive deep things, they did penetrate reality to what is hidden, and there is something about Creativity despite what is written, that does deeply mirror the agony and the ecstasy and those intensely creative will say, they suffer for it, and they also feel deeply they are channeling from the Source.
Let's revisit this. All of us. And hold hands together in fresh understandings. What is this "thing" we call mental illness? What are its origins. Could it be part of a deep, existential angst and search and could it be, G_d generated? Why did G_d give me mental illness: the name of a blog on line that is Orthodox.

(24)
Anonymous,
December 27, 2011 8:22 PM

thank you dear one I suffered like you once but have been healed by His mercy

thank you dear one I suffered like you once but have been healed by His mercy. My expereince of psychiatry was not dissimilar although in a different country, he has proved once more faithful and brought healing to me I ahve not been ill for a number of years now but I will enevr forget such a place or how bleak it was until He shone His light into the ward, indeed Chanukah lights were light in my heart and hope was kindled....I wanna be a Maccabbee

(23)
Jordana,
December 27, 2011 4:06 PM

I am a Jewish staff member in a locked unit.

I am a Jewish staff member in a unit of a psychiatric hospital. We rarely have Jewish patients but this year we have had 3 on the unit during Chanukah. The patients and I came together every evening to light the Menorah and sing the blessings. All of the patients were initially so sad to be in this circumstance during Chanukah... together we were able to turn every evening into a meaningful and beautiful moment. Thank you for posting this story!

(22)
Maish,
December 27, 2011 4:02 PM

Very interesting..

The reference to the tee-shirt and the Grateful Dead reminds me of the Jewish reference since Kaddish is to enhance the departed as to be greatful to those saying Kaddish.

(21)
Anonymous,
December 26, 2011 4:09 PM

identify and sympathise

we too suffer from biopolar disorder in both my husband and one of my children. though the others in the family do not suffer directly, we all suffer. the multitalented, highly intelligent child with this genetic illness often questions why she has been chosen to share this gene with her father. i clearly do not understand the choices Hashem makes when creating anyone or anything, but i can tell her and you one thing for sure-people with biopolar disorder are the colour of an otherwise bland and boring black and white world. you are the courage, the steam and the creativity of everyone's world! be strong and go on to change the world!

(20)
shulamit,
December 26, 2011 3:36 PM

thank you

i cried when i read this because i, too, suffered from a mental illness. i'm a lot better than i was, but bits still remain. the reason i cried is because you described choosing to bring some light, to do whatever you can, and that resonated with me because while i was suffering, i also made that choice, and while it hurt, there was still much beauty in the struggle, as i tried to help those around me, offer advice to others who have someone suffering from a mental illness, and just tried to keep trying, and not give up. thank you for writing your article. now that i'm having a very slight relapse of some symptoms i haven't had in a while--though nothing close to what it used to be like--in reading your article i am reminded of a lot of how much i've been through and that it's not my fault, and that i also try. i wish you much success in all your positive endeavors.

(19)
Anonymous,
December 26, 2011 1:13 PM

Thank you for sharing your story. By coming forward and describing your personal experience, you have helped more people than you can imagine. I wish you and your family a very Happy Chanukah!

(18)
Susan,
December 26, 2011 1:43 AM

Bipolar help

Please know that this is not a cure but it sure won't hurt and could most certainly help. Find an experienced Upledger Cranio-sacral therapist. Also a supplement called Total Brain from Nutri-West (used by Brimhall Chiropractors along with a detox) may also help. I have suffered so very long with deep depression, attempted suicide and I know that Bi-polar runs in my family. This takes time but I am totally off meds and functioning very well, able to work, raise a family and am a happy well adjusted former medication taking patient...Blessings to you and you are very brave to share your story. I hope that you are able to find just the right help that you need.

(17)
Anonymous,
December 26, 2011 12:56 AM

This has been my experience as well

Thank you for your courageous and well written documentation of your experiences. I had a similar experience many years ago and B"H, I am highly functional now, but I still maintain a daily vigil against unwanted and inappropriate thoughts!
Thank you.

(16)
Tammy,
December 25, 2011 9:20 PM

Sad Chanukah

Are things better for you now Shani? i assume they are. That is such a pretty name. I was in treatment for drugs and alcohol once for Christmas and I spent it alone. I disliked the holiday so much I didn't like celebrating it. That was many years ago. I am glad you decided to light the candles. Chanukah is such an exciting thing to celebrate. The story behind it is so marvelous. G-d is good isn't He? May He bless you and give you many more Chanukahs to celebrate no matter what is happening in your life.

(15)
Anonymous,
December 25, 2011 6:51 PM

In Israel, the place to go is Bayit Cham.

If you are religious and live in Israel, the place to go where your world-view will be understood and respected is Bayit Cham with mental health clinics staffed by top professionals in most major religious centers: Jerusalem, Bnei Brak, Modiin Illit, Ashdod, Elad, Beit Shemesh and Ashdod (with Zichron Yaakov and Ariel soon to come). They also have terrific vocational rehab programs all over the country serving all populations. Another of their projects aims to uproot the stigma by raising awareness at seminars for parents and educators. The Bayit Cham hotline # is: 1599-510-550.

(14)
BJ,
December 25, 2011 6:15 PM

Me too

On this Chanukah I am suffering from a bout of PTSD symptoms, which leave me shaken, crying and exhausted. Thank you for your description of your bout of mania during Chanukah, which though tough to read at times, ultimately lifted my heart and soul.

(13)
Anonymous,
December 25, 2011 5:54 PM

memories

your well written article could've been me writing as about 3 yrs ago i was diagnosed with bipolar and experienced a manic episode followed by a depression.Boruch hashem with alot of close support by my family, rebbi and doctor, i have gotten totally better and am now happily married and iyh have a kid on the way.
Your article has reminded me how thankful i am to Hashem for helping me get thru that difficult part of my life.my message to anyone going thru something similar is that just have faith that you will pull thru and keep davening and with the right help and medicine you wiil get better!

(12)
Sarah,
December 25, 2011 5:39 PM

Amen

Shani, Amen to your prayer. And He Who has been performing miracles for us throughout the ages will help you. May you always enjoy Chanukah at the side of your dear ones!

(11)
Judith Lederman,
December 25, 2011 5:21 PM

You brave and wonderful girl!

Kudos to you, you brave and wonderful girl for sharing your thoughts and feelings so openly. As author of The Ups & Downs of Raising a Bipolar Child, I too, pray for a refuah to everyone suffering with this illness. I agree, much attention is given to other types of disease but this disorder is one that is rarely talked about - particularly by those that have this illness.
May you have a complete and speedy Refuah and find stability in your life forever.

(10)
Anonymous,
December 25, 2011 5:09 PM

WOW!!!!!! Thank you for this amazing article, which brings out the beauty that exists in every Jewish soul.
It was particularly intriguing for me, as I too had a nervous breakdown at 17.
Thank you for sharing Shani.

(9)
Anonymous,
December 25, 2011 4:16 PM

thank you

Shani, thank you so much for writing this article. It is so refreshing to read your words of honesty and inspiration, in a situation that is so difficult. Thanks for bringing a bit more light and encouragement into my chanukah, too.

(8)
Malka,
December 25, 2011 3:59 PM

Awed

I am awed by your courage in the face of inner darkness. Your subtle and intelligent prose kept me riveted to your story. I can't help feeling proud that a fellow Jew lit up an entire ward, and in turn, added a bit more light to the world.

(7)
richard,
December 25, 2011 3:54 PM

We all share life's challenges.

The human spectrum of life is not perfect. We all have our physical, emotional and psychological challenges. The key, so eloquently stated in this piece, is to try to stay focused on the positive and keep one's eyes toward the light. Darkness is vast! But a simple Shabbos or Chanukah candle lights the world. It helps create the balance the we all need. It is that balance that helps us endure.

(6)
Mary Ruth,
December 25, 2011 3:30 PM

Thank you for your courage in sharing your story. It is encouraging to me, especially on this day.

(5)
But for the grace of ' ה there goes I,
December 25, 2011 3:09 PM

We must, no I must...

There are numbers of people in our community who appear in out shul on שבת or live next to us who we pass everyday & suffer from various mental disorders. So what do we do? We, no I, give them a quick glance and successfully ignore them. I am sure I am עובר מצוות בין אדם לחברו. But worse than that, I have helped strengthen the prison of loneliness they are in. I cannot pontificate here that WE should do this or that until I resolve to change my behavior. Perhaps, a simple שבת שלום, a handshake or even a simple "How are you?" And if by chance the person answers and engages me in a short conversation, who am I to cringe. After all, how can I, who is less than an insect before 'ה yet I want Him to listen to my voice, refuse to listen. After all, but for the grace of G-d, there goes I.

(4)
Fred Campbell,
December 25, 2011 3:08 PM

Profound thanks

Thank you Shani for writing from the depths of your soul. I sense, but can never truly understand, the pain of mental illness. You have increased my understanding, for which I thank you.
What I can understand is the yearning to reach out, and know, our heavenly father (I am Christian, but we worship the same God).
I pray that our God will meet your needs and yearnings.
Those who truly seek wisdom will find it. Do not give up.
As you journey through life, please continue to give us the benefit of your insights. It is in teaching others that we learn, and grow, ourselves

(3)
Anonymous,
December 25, 2011 2:35 PM

susheena@aol.com

Beautifully written article. Mental illness is something that is not discussed and it is so important to break the stigma attached to these disorders which affect our community. Kol Ha Kavod to Shani for sharing her story and bringing it out into the public.

(2)
Anonymous,
December 25, 2011 10:47 AM

Profound and moving

It's hard to find the words to describe the depth of perserverance and hope your piece evokes. It's a testiment to the resilience of the soul, never giving in to darkness or despair no matter how adverse the circumstances.

(1)
Anonymous,
December 25, 2011 9:43 AM

I am a frum woman with a mental illness, and unfortunately there is a stigma of mental illness in the frum world. I am so happy that you wrote this article and brought awareness about mental illness. I feel it is so important for people to feel that they are not alone.

Aron,
December 25, 2011 6:13 PM

Why is there a stigma of mental illness in the frum world?

I had thought that kindness towards one's neighbour, & caring for people, was part of the frum philosophy. Well, I guess I was wrong.

Anonymous,
December 26, 2011 6:00 AM

There is a stigma in general, not just in the frum world.

While the stigma is there in ALL populations (I'm involved in the field and have heard this from a high-up director of mental health rehab in Israel's Ministry of Health), there is plenty of kindness and caring in the frum community towards people with mental health conditions (again - from personal experience in the field). No community is perfect, but the chessed in the frum community is unmatched in this area as well.

I'm told that it's a mitzvah to become intoxicated on Purim. This puzzles me, because to my understanding, it is not considered a good thing to become intoxicated, period.

One of the characteristics of the at-risk youth is their use of drugs, including alcohol. In my experience, getting drunk doesn't reveal secrets. It makes people act stupid and irresponsible, doing things they would never do if they were sober. Also, I know a lot about the horrible health effects of abusing alcohol, because I work at a research center that focuses on addiction and substance abuse.

Also, I am an alcoholic, which means that if I drink, very bad things happen. I have not had a drink in 22 years, and I have no intention of starting now. Surely there must be instances where a person is excused from the obligation to drink. I don't see how Judaism could ever promote the idea of getting drunk. It just doesn't seem right.

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Putting aside for a moment all the spiritual and philosophical reasons for getting drunk on Purim, this remains an issue of common sense. Of course, teenagers should be warned of the dangers of acute alcohol ingestion. Of course, nobody should drink and drive. Of course, nobody should become so drunk to the point of negligence in performing mitzvot. And of course, a recovering alcoholic should not partake of alcohol on Purim.

Indeed, the Code of Jewish Law explicitly says that if one suspects the drinking may affect him negatively, then he should NOT drink.

Getting drunk on Purim is actually one of the most difficult mitzvot to do correctly. A person should only drink if it will lead to positive spiritual results - e.g. under the loosening affect of the alcohol, greater awareness will surface of the love for God and Torah found deep in the heart. (Perhaps if we were on a higher spiritual level, we wouldn't need to get drunk!)

Yet the Talmud still speaks of an obligation on Purim of "not knowing the difference between Blessed is Mordechai and Cursed is Haman." How then should a person who doesn't drink get the point of “not knowing”? Simple - just go to sleep! (Rama - OC 695:2)

All this applies to individuals. But the question remains - does drinking on Purim adversely affect the collective social health of the Jewish community?

The aversion to alcoholism is engrained into Jewish consciousness from a number of Biblical and Talmudic sources. There are the rebuking words of prophets - Isaiah 28:1, Hosea 3:1 with Rashi, and Amos 6:6, and the Zohar says that "The wicked stray after wine" (Midrash Ne'alam Parshat Vayera).

It is well known that the rate of alcoholism among Jews has historically been very low. Numerous medical, psychological and sociological studies have confirmed this. The connection between Judaism and sobriety is so evident, that the following conversation is reported by Lawrence Kelemen in "Permission to Receive":

When Dr. Mark Keller, editor of the Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol, commented that "practically all Jews do drink, and yet all the world knows that Jews hardly ever become alcoholics," his colleague, Dr. Howard Haggard, director of Yale's Laboratory of Applied Physiology, jokingly proposed converting alcoholics to the Jewish religion in order to immerse them in a culture with healthy attitudes toward drinking!

Perhaps we could suggest that it is precisely because of the use of alcohol in traditional ceremonies (Kiddush, Bris, Purim, etc.), that Jews experience such low rates of alcoholism. This ceremonial usage may actually act like an inoculation - i.e. injecting a safe amount that keeps the disease away.

Of course, as we said earlier, all this needs to be monitored with good common sense. Yet in my personal experience - having been in the company of Torah scholars who were totally drunk on Purim - they acted with extreme gentleness and joy. Amid the Jewish songs and beautiful words of Torah, every year the event is, for me, very special.

Adar 12 marks the dedication of Herod's renovations on the second Holy Temple in Jerusalem in 11 BCE. Herod was king of Judea in the first century BCE who constructed grand projects like the fortresses at Masada and Herodium, the city of Caesarea, and fortifications around the old city of Jerusalem. The most ambitious of Herod's projects was the re-building of the Temple, which was in disrepair after standing over 300 years. Herod's renovations included a huge man-made platform that remains today the largest man-made platform in the world. It took 10,000 men 10 years just to build the retaining walls around the Temple Mount; the Western Wall that we know today is part of that retaining wall. The Temple itself was a phenomenal site, covered in gold and marble. As the Talmud says, "He who has not seen Herod's building, has never in his life seen a truly grand building."

Some people gauge the value of themselves by what they own. But in reality, the entire concept of ownership of possessions is based on an illusion. When you obtain a material object, it does not become part of you. Ownership is merely your right to use specific objects whenever you wish.

How unfortunate is the person who has an ambition to cleave to something impossible to cleave to! Such a person will not obtain what he desires and will experience suffering.

Fortunate is the person whose ambition it is to acquire personal growth that is independent of external factors. Such a person will lead a happy and rewarding life.

With exercising patience you could have saved yourself 400 zuzim (Berachos 20a).

This Talmudic proverb arose from a case where someone was fined 400 zuzim because he acted in undue haste and insulted some one.

I was once pulling into a parking lot. Since I was a bit late for an important appointment, I was terribly annoyed that the lead car in the procession was creeping at a snail's pace. The driver immediately in front of me was showing his impatience by sounding his horn. In my aggravation, I wanted to join him, but I saw no real purpose in adding to the cacophony.

When the lead driver finally pulled into a parking space, I saw a wheelchair symbol on his rear license plate. He was handicapped and was obviously in need of the nearest parking space. I felt bad that I had harbored such hostile feelings about him, but was gratified that I had not sounded my horn, because then I would really have felt guilty for my lack of consideration.

This incident has helped me to delay my reactions to other frustrating situations until I have more time to evaluate all the circumstances. My motives do not stem from lofty principles, but from my desire to avoid having to feel guilt and remorse for having been foolish or inconsiderate.

Today I shall...

try to withhold impulsive reaction, bearing in mind that a hasty act performed without full knowledge of all the circumstances may cause me much distress.

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